the pieces of my life

In the old days I couldn't make the tea cups at Disney spin fast enough. Now one ride on the Cuckoo Clockenspiel and am ready to puke. Aging at its ugliest.

Doodles said on the Twirling Turtles–as we're whipped around at top speed and his friend exclaims, "My stomach is all the way in my chest!"– "I don't know how Dad can not like this!" Um, I might have an idea.

The Italian sausage and ice cream with sausages just after the Twirling Turtles and right before the Teacups may have been a mistake. Just sayin'.

Spotty service is foiling my posting plans. Doodles has two friends here, both girls, and they're fighting over who gets to sit next to him. Hope he doesn't get used to it. I took the kids on the Krazy Barn. Now I'm Krazy Nauseous. Ready to watch the freaky cats at the Hannaford Circus. Do you wish you were me?

Nothing like mediocre coffee in the morning to pump you up. Yea, Glen Junction breakfast! Or, as Adam says, it would be better called Ultimatum Point because every second sentence uttered is, "If you don't X, then no Storyland!" Children fortified with chocolate chip pancakes. Time to hit the park!

So normally I'd post all my brilliant and oh-so witty (let me have my delusions–at least until I get some coffee) comments on Twitter, but apparently I can now text posts to Blogger so I thought I'd give you guys minute by minute (sort of) updates of our exciting adventures in Storyland. Of course, you may not hear anything for a bit because the other family we're with isn't moving very fast. I just have to remind myself, not everyone can be a Brown. Although a girl can dream…

I’m doing my best to ignore the shrieks coming from upstairs. The boy has his first sleepover tonight. Tab is here, not sleeping on the Aerobed in Doodles’s room. I’ve gone up six times already and those kids, much as I love them, just aren’t the sharpest crayons in the box. I’ve told them they don’t have to go to sleep. They don’t even have to try to go to sleep. They just have to whisper. That’s it. But I keep hearing thumps and shrieks and squeals and gales of laughter. It’s going to be a very long night.

So this blog has become somewhat of an issue. Throughout the week things happen and I’ll think, “Oh, I’ve go to blog that!” But most of what I want to blog is about the stupidity of others. Really. I have such a low tolerance for stupidity. There was a time when I would have written with glee. When we first moved here and Adam entered business school, oh what fun I made and had with this blog! And make fun I did. Often. And it was fun. And I would often get called on it. I made a few enemies with this blog. And I reveled in that. Because what’s the worst that could happen? I could cripple Adam’s HBS-standing, thereby placing in jeopardy his career possibilities and making him a leper in his colony. No biggie.

But now, now it’s different. I can’t trash the PTO (which in my day was the PTA), mock moms, or make general scathing comments about my local community. Because I have children. I always knew that children would interfere with my drinking life, my writing life, even my sex life. But who knew they’d interfere with my blog life? Because it’s one thing to alienate my husband’s community and make a pariah of him, but it’s another thing with the children. I don’t want them to suffer for my sins. “Oh, you want to have a playdate with Doodles? The one whose mom drinks too many martinis and who called me an anal-retentive Attila the Mom? Sweetie, I have a better idea. Why don’t we have Christopher over instead?”

So I swallow so much. I think that’s what’s making me gain weight. The snarky, biting comments are just festering in the bile of my stomach. But I still think the thoughts. I still daydream of an anonymous blog where I could talk about the cliques and mommy mafias around me. But I refrain.

However, next week, I’ll have another outlet. It’s Adam’s five year HBS reunion. I’ll see if the Corporate Wife training turned out any successful Corporate Wives. I’m sharpening my nails as I type….

Dumb question of the night: Adam just came in and asked, “Are they asleep?”

Um, duh. No. And they probably won’t be for a few hours. Might be time to go up and flex those claws. Get them ready for next week. Grrrrr!

I volunteer every Wednesday in Doodles's kindergarten class. They're studying community helpers and talking about what they want to be when they grow up. For a couple of years, Doodles had said he wants to be a paleontologist. That's what he drew for his class last week.

Today, though, it's a different story.

Me: What are you drawing there?
D: A doctor.
Me: I thought you wanted to be a palentologist when you grow up!
D: I heard doctors make more money.

And there you have it.

From the “takes after his father” department:
Doodles had a playdate over, a girl from his kindergarten class, J. They were playing nicely, but at one point J. bumped her head and came to find me. Nothing serious, but I gave her an ice pack and yelled down to the playroom for Doodles.
Doodles: What?
Me: Could you please come up here?
Doodles comes upstairs.
Doodles: Whadda you want?
Me: Doodles, J. hit her head and is going to sit here for a minute with the ice pack.
Doodles throws up his arms and says: So, what did you call me up here for?

From the “in the vault” department [with a spoiler for Kofefim parents]:
At pick up from school, Pie and her teacher were whispering, and then the teacher said to Pie: Now, don’t forget! It’s a secret!
Pie: I know! Mommy, I can’t tell you! It’s a surprise!
Me: Okay.
Almost exactly one hour later.
Pie: Mommy, I made you a pin!
Me: What?
Pie: A pin! I made you a pin! You know, for mother’s day!
Me: Didn’t your teacher tell you to keep it a secret?
Pie: Yeah! So make sure you don’t tell her that I gave it away!

From the “teen angst” department:
Doodles was clearly overtired and just having a rough time. He came downstairs with both his backpacks and tears in his eyes.
Me: Whatcha doing?
Doodles: I’m leaving.
Me: You’re running away?
Doodles: Yes?
Me: But why?
Doodles, starting to sob: I don’t want to move out. I have to move out. I can’t live with all these rules!
Me: That makes me sad. What rules don’t you like?
Doodles, sobbing heavily: All the rules! Like you make me make me eat energy food. J. gets a cookie in her lunch every day for snack. And I never get one! I want to eat junk food every day, too!